


Strange New World

by ILLEGAILE



Series: Strange and Wonderful Things [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Doctor Strange, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Doctor Strange AU, Fluff, Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rated T because Yata had "A rotten upbringing", Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILLEGAILE/pseuds/ILLEGAILE
Summary: "It’s not about you."Fushimi Saruhiko just wants his hands healed. He didn’t want to get into this mess of sorcerers and magic. He’s not wanted magic since he was in Middle School. And, even then, it hadn’t come in the form he had it now. He can’t bring himself to complain though when he can be that hero Misaki had always wanted but he’d never been able to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning a short fic. But then it got out of hand. If you guys want this to be multi-chapter comment below! Because, I was tempted. I did all of this today after I watched Doctor Strange but now it feels like I'm using that universe but something else entirely is happening! Anyway, this is my first K-Project fic. I hope you enjoyed. Leave a comment if you want a continuation.
> 
> [This happens after middle school but instead of not going to high school they both gain an interest in medicine particularly after Mikoto saves Megumi from paralysis and offers to sponsor Yata's scholarship. I might write some more about that. If anyone asks or gets confused, lol. This is getting out of hand.]

He has a cadaver under his gloved hands when he sees Yata again and bites back a pained frown, thankful for the surgical mask covering his face. He hands the instruments over to Benzai so he can finish the demo for him.

“Ah, Mi~sa~ki.” He greets, pulling off the surgical mask once he’s certain his expression is one of smugness instead of a mess of pain/guilt/regret. “Come running back to me when you want something? So telling of our relationship.” He taunted, smirk widening as Yata’s brows furrow and his face goes impossibly red.

“Patient.” Yata bites out, sounding pained. “Kusanagi won’t let me operate-”

“Because you’re a practicing pediatrician, not a neurosurgeon.” Fushimi takes in Yata’s harried appearance before quickly snatching the pad from his hands, pointedly ignoring the watch strapped securely on Yata’s wrist. “You want me to work on your brain dead child patient.”

“I want you…” Yata took his wrist in calloused hands, evidence of a past neither of them spoke of anymore, and dragged him close to his smaller frame. “To do your job.” He scrolled to a CAT scan of what looked like a small girl’s head. “And save a life.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance but continued to scan the scan for signs of why the girl wasn’t waking up. He’d spotted it immediately. He would never admit to how his heart was racing and he didn’t’ have to. Yata could probably feel it when he made a grab for his wrist but he didn’t mention it. “I’m not doing this for-”

Yata seemed to scoff at the thought. “Of course, not.” He led Fushimi to his patient’s room, shoving aside another Doctor who squawked in protest declaring that her parents wanted the plug pulled. As they pushed the patient into an operating table, Fushimi barking for Kusanagi to get out of the way and for Gojo to stop being an idiot and let him operate on his patient, Yata muttered to himself not expecting Fushimi to hear him.

But, he did. He always did if it was Yata.

His voice was soft and definitely pained this time around as he muttered.

“It’s always about you, Saru.*” 

 

Life saved, Fushimi exited the operating room, letting his hands stretch under the spray of the sink. He heard Yata come in, his feet shuffling awkwardly on the linoleum floors as he searched for the words to say.

“Thank you.” He managed to spit out, going for simple and heartfelt.

Fushimi almost laughed. “I can’t believe you made me do this. Such a pain, Mi~sa~ki.” He retorted without thinking, falling back on old habits.

“I didn’t make you do anything, asshole. No one could force your lazy ass to do anything. I couldn’t do it then and I sure as hell couldn’t do it now.” Yata half shouted, cringing when he’d realized he could be caught fighting with the hospital’s most experienced and celebrated surgeon.

Fushimi smirked. “Oh, I think you know exactly how to make my lazy ass _do something_ , Misaki.” He returned smugly, relishing in the way Yata seemed to shiver before his expression contorted into rage.

“We promised to never talk about that.” Yata said, a threatening undertone to his voice.

“You were so much nicer to me when we were sleeping together.” Fushimi scoffed.

Yata shook his head. “And you’re still an asshole.”

“And you’re still a virgin.”

“Fuck you, you know that’s not true.” Yata’s hands clenched into fists, looking like he was ready to beat him. Fushimi didn’t let him, taking those fists into his hands and staring softly at Yata in that way that always made the shorter man fold.

“I won’t mention it…” He pecked the shocked pediatrician on the cheek. “If you come to this gala with me.”

Blinking fast, Yata regained his composure and pointed an accusing finger at Fushimi. “No. Fuck no. I’m not doing this with you. Thank you for helping my patient. Good bye and good fucking riddance.”

“Is this because of that procedure I named after me? Because you barely helped with that.” He asked, remembering the experiment they’d done years ago that they’d used to save Kamamoto’s spine. “If it means so much, we could double barrel. Happy?”

Yata stared at him but this time around he only looked sad. “No. I’m not. I’m sad for you, Saru.” Fushimi blinked, trying to see if the moisture in Yata’s bright eyes were a trick of the light. “You’ll never grow up, won’t you?”

Fushimi thought about answering honestly for a moment, to tell Yata something that would make him smile, something that would make his Misaki grin that wide grin at him so he’d be Fushimi’s forever.

“Look who’s talking.” He said instead, locking up memories of shared meals and soft promises made on lazy mornings and of Yata in awe as Suoh Mikoto cured his sister’s paralysis.

He felt a box of latex gloves being flung at him as Yata stomped out of the room. “Go to hell, you stupid monkey.”

 

* * *

 

He remembers driving to the gala. The road framed the edge of a mountain. It was raining, he thought, and it was dark. And the person in front of him was driving so _slow_. He’d been trying to overtake them when it happened.

Fushimi Saruhiko had crashed into an oncoming car and fallen off the side of a cliff.

“You were on the table for thirteen hours.*” Yata said from his seat to his right. “But, you don’t care about that, do you?” He asked, sounding tired and exasperated by Fushimi’s stubborn glare.

“My hands.” Fushimi tried to stretch them, lift them, twitch them. He couldn’t feel a thing. His nerves refused to work. Yata shook his head, orange hair shifting in a way that mesmerized him but was upset by the defeated frown on his face. “No.” Fushimi’s face contorted, eyes fogging up with unshed tears. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Yata, doesn’t want to show weakness. But, his hands aren’t moving and he’s worked so _hard_.

Strong arms wrap around his head, wary of his shoulders, and before he could protest Yata was standing awkwardly next to the bed hugging him.

“You’ll bounce back. Of course you will. You’re the world’s most stubborn son of a bitch.” He murmured, speaking over Fushimi’s silent sobs. Neither of them have touched each other this long since medical school and just like when it happened then they don’t talk about it.

Still, Fushimi thinks, it’s not so bad having Misaki here next to him.

 

It’s not enough.

His colleagues are adamant that he’s a lost cause but he can’t blame them. He would have said the same thing if he’d been given his own case. The nagging voice of his diseased father – may his soul burn in hell – continued to call out to him moaning that he was being stupid. If he was the one operating on himself, he’d have saved his hands. But, there was no changing it.

Yata came by once a week to make sure he ate and to help him shave. It’s the closest they’ve ever been since med school and it’s been too long. They’re different now. It doesn’t stop Fushimi’s heart from stuttering when Yata’s gruff voice greets him hello.

 

There’s one thing he doesn’t miss and it’s fighting with Misaki.

“You know, if I thought you’d listen, I’d tell you that you could do something else. Put your brain to use in other ways. You-” He almost stopped there and Fushimi almost snapped but he’d just gotten off the phone with Aya, now a successful physical therapist, and she had mentioned a patient with paralysis who she’d treated and she’d seen walking past her on the street.

Her patient shouldn’t have lived let alone been able to walk with how serious his leg injuries were.

“You were always smarter than everyone.” He turned to Yata, almost forgetting that the pediatrician was there. “If anyone could turn their career around it’s you.”

Fushimi peered at him, frustration clouding his judgment. “If you’re just going to stand there pitying me then you can get the fuck out of my house.” He muttered darkly.

Yata blinked a couple of times, confused by the change in topic. “What-”

“I don’t need you, Yata!” He screamed, taking in the look of shock and something that looked a lot like heartbreak in the older man’s eyes. “Take your stupid vegetables and go. I lived this long without you. I don’t need you mothering me. And I sure as fuck don’t need you _loving_ me.” He continued, driving Yata back until his back hit the door. “Because what we had was just a pity fuck and I don’t need that anymore. I don’t need it _ever again_.”

Yata sucked in a shaky breath, his trembling hands coming forward to rest on Fushimi’s chest before being ripped away by the taller man’s unsteady fingers. “Saru…”

“Get it into your tiny brain, you idiot.” Fushimi opened the door and shoved his former best friend out of it. “I don’t love you.”

The sound of his door closing sounded a lot like breaking glass and his hands continued to shake. But, it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe.

 

The next day, there was a box in his mail along with bills for the medical treatments he’d had done for his hands. He pays the bills first, noting that he’d need loans if he wanted to do any more procedures, before opening the small box.

Yata’s wristwatch was a familiar warmth in his hand, almost as though the man had just taken it off. Fushimi eyed the trash bin next to him but as his shaking fingers caressed the worn strap he hesitated. Securing the watch around his wrist, he stood up and started walking.

 

Oogai Aya’s former patient, Totsuka Tatara, was an old friend.

But, the fact that the man was mentored by Suoh Mikoto was so obviously bad karma. Really, what had he done in his past life? Killed someone? Become some sort of traitor?

Honestly, it sounded like something he would do.

Mikoto didn’t mind Fushimi’s presence really and Totsuka was as outgoing as always, inviting Fushimi into Mikoto’s office like it was his own. The one person in the room that Fushimi had not expected was the white haired girl sitting on the couch eating a parfait.

“Your hands.” She peered at Fushimi inquisitively and it felt like she could see right through him. “You want to know how Tatara is walking.” She smiled. It didn’t do anything to ease Fushimi’s nerves but it made it feel like she was the easiest to talk to in the room.

Totsuka straightened, sensing that the conversation had taken a serious turn. “Ah, if that’s what you’re looking for, Fushimi-kun, then it’s Scepter 4 you’re looking for.” He tilted his head in Mikoto’s direction and grinned.

Fushimi raised a brow at them. “Scepter-”

“You’ll find it in Nepal.” The little girl commented softly.

Mikoto opened his eyes and stared at her. “Anna.” He muttered, his voice sounding somewhat softer than Fushimi expected coming from him.

“In Kathmandu. Look for The Captain.” She got up, parfait in one hand while the other dug into the pocket of her skirt and dug out a red marble. “Look for… Blue.”

 

* * *

 

 

Fushimi Saruhiko has never been to Nepal before but the streets are crowded with people who were eager enough to point him in the wrong direction. “Scepter 4?” He asked another native who pointed to an alley a few blocks ahead. With a groan, he started walking forward, turning into the alley, and bumping into a couple of street kids.

Fuck everything.

“I don’t have any money. You can check if you want.” He groaned, annoyed by his bad luck.

One of the kids, a short rat faced one, stared at Fushimi’s arm and smirked. “How about your watch?” He asked in surprisingly good English and Fushimi’s face went white with horror.

“That’s all I’ve got.” He bit his lip, unsure if he was in a healed enough state to fight all three of them. “I don’t have anything else. It’s the only thing I have left.”

“Give us…” The tallest one said slowly. “The watch.”

They all lunged for him and Fushimi danced away, nailing one of them with his fist and cringing as his weak fingers collided with hard cheekbones. He went down immediately after, the street rats kicking at his still weak body as he curled up into a ball.

What a stupid way to die, curled up and weak in an alley in Nepal with just a marble in his pocket and a wristwatch clutched tightly in shaking hands.

“Misaki…” He said softly, unable to register the set of feet that had ceased kicking him. He looked up and a blur of blue robes lashed out at another street kid, knocking the last one unconscious with a vicious looking high kick.

Fushimi blinked up at his savior, incredibly confused. “Thank you?”

The hood was pulled back, revealing a woman with blonde hair tied up in two buns on both sides of her head. She seemed tough but also warm in her own way, with an obvious power behind her actions.

“I am Awashima Seri.” She held out a hand to help him up. “You’re looking for Scepter 4?”

 

Scepter 4 was… odd. For starters, it wasn’t in a skyscraper or a government building like he thought it might be. Instead, it was in a temple atop one of the peaks. He doesn’t understand how they got there seeing as they’d entered a small shop and exited _on top of a mountain_.

“Thank you.” He said softly to the woman in blue, Awashima. “I really appreciate this… Captain.”

Awashima lifted a brow at him and stepped aside revealing a man standing behind a table pouring tea.

The man looked at him through the lenses of his glasses and smiled. “You’re welcome.*”

“You are the Captain, then?” Somehow Fushimi wasn’t surprised. He pulled the marble out of his pocket and reached out to hand it to the man who took his trembling hand in both of his, staring into his eyes. “Can you… help me?”

“You have lost much.” He decided, rolling the marble in his hand before picking it up. “And you have great potential.” With a flick of his wrist he tossed the marble into the air. “But, you are closed minded and arrogant.”

Fushimi frowned. “Excuse me-”

The Captain shoved both hands in his chest and he felt his spirit leave his body, watching in shock as the marble glowed a bright and luminescent red.

“My name is Munakata Reisi.” The man spoke, eyes on his spirit floating in the ether. “And there is much about this world that you do not know.”

A bright flash of light blinded him and when he opened his eyes again he was soaring through the air, flying past stars and worlds he couldn’t perceive, universes full of life and ones full of death. Fushimi was never one to believe in deities but even he could admit the immenseness of the experience.

When he returned from his little trip, he fell to his knees, a determined expression on his face. “Teach me.*”

 

Awashima is surprisingly strong, he decides as he gets thrown out of Scepter 4 via the weird shop going to the mountain temple.

He waits on their doorstep, banging on it for 6 hours until he’s let in by Munakata who ushers him into a spare bedroom and hands him a paper with some random syllables. “What is this, my mantra?*” He asked and Munakata shakes his head at him like he’s a child putting on his parents clothes. Not that Fushimi ever did that as a child.

“It’s the wifi password.” He smiled. “We’re not savages, Fushimi-kun.*”

 

He can’t get any spells to work.

His hands are making the right movements, he has the right stance. He can’t open a stupid door to another place. Fushimi is starting to feel stupid, his sling ring – an ancient artifact that aids magic – is heavy on his weak fingers. It’s got to be because of the trembling, he decides with a huff as they are dismissed.

“It’s not about your hands, you know.” He stumbled back, shocked to find Anna standing in front of him. With a gasp, he watches as her own gate was closing with Totsuka waving at them both as Suoh Mikoto stepped through.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, but didn’t dismiss the suggestion. After all, it was Anna’s suggestion that gave him this renewed purpose.

Anna can see right through him, the way magic was beginning to change him, beginning to make him believe in the world even a little. She smiles sadly at him, knowing it isn’t what Fushimi wanted but it might be what he needs.

Fushimi breathes out, stretching his arms out and zeroing in on the space in front of him. For the first time, he doesn’t think of cells and matter and tangible things. The bright sun burns his pale skin and Anna is watching him, he can only think of his Misaki. Of his fiery warmth and of a kiss stolen on a hot summer day tasting of chocolate ice cream and marshmallows, of an entirely different kind of magic a boy three and a half months older than him used to inspire in him.

Mikoto looks up in shock, impressed.

A circle of knives surround him like he is the sun to their axis and Fushimi stands in it’s center, just as surprised as Mikoto was. “Maybe-” Fushimi circles his hand again, sparks of light starting to form a circle in front of him. “Come… on.”

The portal opens and Munakata is sitting on the other side, looking pleased. “Very good, Fushimi-kun.” He says, nodding at Mikoto and Anna. “Ah, welcome back, Homra.”

Fushimi raises a brow at the unfamiliar name and Munakata gives him an apologetic look that says he will explain later.

Homra, Fushimi thinks as Anna and Mikoto move to join Munakata. There was something happening here, something that was alarmingly unknown.

 

“Scepter 4 is one of seven sanctums that protected the world from monsters from different dimensions. Now there are only three, these sanctums are Scepter 4 here in Nepal, Hakumaitou in Japan which houses our Sorcerer Supreme, and Homra in New York. But, you already know that since you worked with Suoh in New York.” Fushimi’s head whipped around to stare at Mikoto sitting in the library next to Anna.

“So, Mikoto is the Master of that Sanctum?” He asked.

Munakata shook his head. “Kushina Anna is the Master of the Homra Sanctum.”

The girl nodded in Munakata’s direction.

“But why would you send me here, then?” Fushimi asked, not pleased with how little he actually knows about this new world he’s involved in.

Anna’s eyes went bright red, a sad smile on her pale face. “I talked with the Sorcerer Supreme and he said it wasn’t in your future.” She said. “He and I have been monitoring you very closely, so has Munakata.”

“You have a great potential to destroy or save the world. You must understand that we were worried you might turn rogue.” The bespectacled man smiled kindly, completely unapologetic. “We don’t need another Colorless.”

Everyone grew silent.

Fushimi had heard about the Colorless Sorcerer. He’d read that the man tried to manipulate people, possessing them to gain immortality and destroying his own sanctum in the process of contacting an evil from another dimension that exists beyond time.

“The Slate.” All three masters turned to look at him. “I read about him in the library.”

Anna stood up and slowly walked to him. “The Slate is not someone to be spoken of lightly.” She said grimly. “We protect the world from The Slate or else The Slate kills all of us.”

“I get it.” He raised his hands in a peace making gesture. “Don’t tamper with Slate magic.”

 

* * *

 

 

Fushimi stared blankly at the bare email. He’d managed to write one word and was completely stumped with what to say.

 _Misaki_ , the letter read. But what do you say to someone you’ve loved your entire life with your entire existence up until he decided he needed to pursue things other than you? He was young. He was selfish. He’s still selfish.

And he still loved Misaki. Loved him even more now that they’re their own people and not extremely co-dependent.

Just as he’s about to type it all out a green parrot appeared on his screen peering at him inquisitively.

Fushimi stretched out his arms, knives made out of energy appearing between his fingers. He didn’t have a weapon yet. Awashima said that relics chose their own masters but he was more than capable with the knives he had even though sometimes his fingers would shake so bad he’s afraid they’ll fall.

“Ah, so we meet at last, Fushimi Saruhiko.” The bird peered at him, passing through the screen like a 3D model. Fushimi ran an experimental hand through it and confirmed that it was in fact a hologram of some sort. Or a projection. He couldn’t be sure. “I was hoping you could help me with a small thing.”

Fushimi stared awkwardly at the bird peering through his laptop screen. “What?”

“Give me the Eye.” The bird seemed to grin.

He remembered the Eye very well. He used it yesterday and had gotten scolded for it by Awashima. Even Munakata looked concerned under his initial reaction, which was pleasant surprise. He remembered that the Eye could control time and there was no way this weird parrot thing was getting it if the warnings about it had been true.

“Like that’s going to happen-” A scream tore through the air and Fushimi stood up, running towards the library, the sound of squawking bird left in his wake.

 

When he arrived, Mikoto and Anna were opening the doors to Homra in New York, getting ready to fight.

“If Homra falls, you need to lock us out.” Mikoto said flatly and Munakata agreed looking pained at the thought. “Stay safe.”

“You as well.” And then, surprisingly, Munakata clutched the back of Mikoto’s head and pressed his lips against the other sorcerer’s. He patted Anna’s head and the doors swung open, revealing a group of sorcerers huddled together all severely injured.

“Anna!” A blonde sorcerer with a pale gray hood got up, carrying another sorcerer in brown robes. “It’s terrible, they broke through. The guys are still up front but-”

Anna’s expression darkened. “He went ahead again.”

All five sorcerers were silent for a while until one of them – a big guy that looked eerily familiar to Fushimi – stood with his head hanging.

“Yata’s fighting Colorless.”

Fushimi pushed past the crowd of moaning Homra sorcerers and started shaking the fat one he now recalled was Kamamoto. “Yata who?” He asked. The blonde shook his head, eyes widening upon realizing who he was.

“But you, we thought-” He sputtered.

“Answer me!”

 

“Anna! Mikoto-san! Get back!” A familiar voice shouted as Yata went flying back, catching himself before he fell. His staff was glowing red, dull and tired as it was, but he stood back up engulfed in bright red robes that set his hair aflame. “Mother fucker-”

“Misaki?”

Yata flinched and turned around, eyes widening as his gaze met Fushimi’s. “Saru?”

A flash of movement caught Fushimi’s eye and he slid in front of Yata, throwing his hands up and shielding them both with his knives.

“Saru!” Yata shouted, jumping up as his boots started emitting energy forming a skateboard looking thing that propelled him through the air. He rammed into Colorless, a young boy with crazy looking eyes and pale hair.

Munakata started knocking on the only other door left, the Silver door of Hakumaitou. “Sorcerer Supreme!” He shouted as the remaining members of Homra charged forward to aid Yata along with Mikoto and Anna following at a more leisurely rate.

“Captain, what do we do?” He asked, Anna’s gaze catching Munakata’s.

 

“We have to close the door.”

Awashima and Fushimi gasped, both shocked at the coldness of his decision. “But, Captain-”

“Kushina Anna is right.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, that pained look was back on his face. “Homra’s loss is unfortunate but we can’t let them take over Scepter 4 or Hakumaitou.”

Fushimi was overwhelmed by mixed feelings. He wanted to fight, wanted to protect Misaki and hold Misaki and talk to him about this. About what the hell was going on and when did he become a sorcerer? Was it when he was mentored by Mikoto? Was that why he’d grown distant? Was it part of this grand master plan that somehow involved him?

 

The Silver doors creaked open and a white cat peeped out of the crack, mewling at them.

“Nyan!” The cat shouted, a white mist coming over it as it shifted, becoming larger and stretching out and becoming more _human_. “Neko! Strain Universe! What’s the problem?” She asked.

Awashima shook her head at Neko’s antics and Munakata only smiled knowingly.

Fushimi was… confused. But, that was a natural thing now with magic and alternate universes being a thing that existed.

“We need the supreme sorcerer.” Munakata asked, bowing low.

Neko returned the bow and turned around, running back through the Hakumaitou gate. “Shiro! Kurosuke! Shiro! Kurosuke! Megane Man needs back up!” She started shouting, her shrill voice echoing around the gleaming halls of Hakumaitou.

Munakata eyed Colorless, still fighting off the headstrong Yata with shorter more powerful energy jabs from Mikoto and Anna. It looked like Colorless wasn’t really trying with them. In fact, the way he seemed to be smirking at Munakata was suspicious.

“Close the Hakumaitou door.” Fushimi said, turning to the direction of his room and snatching the Eye up from the center of the library. “I met a parrot today. Green. He said he wanted the eye. Do you know what that means?”

Munakata’s eyes widened a fraction but still he nodded in assent. “Hisui Nagare is a part of this, then.”

A silver light shot out from the Hakumaitou doors, flinging everyone from Homra back just as it knocked Colorless right out of Homra’s Sanctum and onto the sidewalk of New York.

“So, you finally showed up, Weissman?”

The silver light dimmed revealing a boy who looked similar to Colorless but wore white robes. Next to him was a taller man with what looked like katana on his hip in black robes and on his other side was the girl from earlier, wrapped hastily in pale pink robes that were falling off her shoulders.

“I should have banished you to the dark dimension ages ago but I foolishly thought you’d change if given the chance.” The white haired boy sighed as if put out by how boring Colorless was being.

Anna stepped forward. “Yashiro, they’re after you.”

“I know that.” Shiro stepped forward, leaning down to stare Colorless in the eye. “You and Hisui Nagare better stop this foolishness.”

“Or else, what?”

Shiro’s expression turned knowing and brutal. “I know more ways you will die than you’ll ever know.”

Colorless turned to stare at the gathering of Masters, frowning as he found himself outnumbered and outgunned. “Nagare will find you and you will regret the day you crossed him.”

Shiro stepped back, looking satisfied. He gave Colorless one last look before waving a hand over him causing the boy to disappear. Closing the doors to Homra’s Sanctum, he let out a sigh.

“He knows exactly where to find me.”

 

Fushimi took a set at one of the library tables facing the gates.

Kusanagi had arrived in Homra, announcing that they were all still employed since they’d activated mirror universe before the fighting began. They hadn’t missed a shift at the hospital yet but Mikoto and Yata better hurry before they’re late.

Mikoto took off immediately, pecking Munakata on the cheek before he went. But Yata sat down next to him, looking deeply tired. Suddenly, all those times Yata came to visit him looking like he’d run a couple of miles made sense. “How long?” He asked.

“Since a little after we split.” Yata admitted looking sheepish. “I had no idea, of course. But Anna probably knew that if she told me you were magical it would change the outcome of today or something in the future. But, damn, Saru. You’re the guy then, that one Munakata has been waiting ages for. That’s so cool-”

“Misaki.” Fushimi chuckled quietly to himself shocking the older man. “How long has Colorless been trying to invade Homra?” He reiterated, catching the wonder in Yata’s eyes.

“So, you figured it out. Took you long enough.” Yata looked at Anna, putting things away with her magic and floating around with her wings. “He’s been attacking the hospital since your accident. He figured you were easy prey.”

Fushimi gave him a searching look.

“Why me?” He asked.

That was the million-dollar question.

Yata sighed and smiled sadly. “It’s always about you.”

 

Fushimi frowned and took Yata’s hand in his, twining steady calloused fingers between his shaky broken ones. And, for the first time since he went on this journey, he felt at peace. “Not anymore.” He lifted Yata’s hand to his lips and pressed soft kisses to his knuckles making Yata gasp. It’s louder and more meaningful than any apology could have been and it feels like catharsis. Fushimi stared into his eyes, before he would have grappled for the words to say but now he’s tired and content and he just wants Misaki.

Misaki and this strange new world of theirs.

One that they can protect and save together.

It’s not their small world, but it’s still theirs and it’s even brighter and bigger than ever.

 

“It’s you and me.”

 

Misaki grinned. “If that’s how it is, we can take on the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> (*) Lines used in the movie Doctor Strange.


End file.
